Baker Street Irregulars
by AnonyMouseHatesCaptcha
Summary: A random collection of drabbles and short stories. Pairings, ratings, and content may vary.
1. John x Sherlock, Nightclub

A/N - This is just a random collection of drabbles and short stories. Most of these are prompt fills from Livejournal. Huge thanks to the anonymous prompters for the inspiration!

Apologies in advance for any SPAG errors I made along the way. These are just writing exercises I decided to share, and they were not beta read or edited too extensively. The quality of each drabble is, uh, greatly subjective.

**Please note that the Overall rating is ADULT for explicit sexual and triggering content!**

_**BAMF!John to the rescue**_

**Rated:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** John/Sherlock, established.  
**Warnings:** slight non-con.  
**Summary:** random guy starts hitting on Sherlock, and just won't take _no_ for an answer. John doesn't stand for that.

Sherlock scowled, searching the crowd for his partner. It was hopeless; the night club was completely packed with party-goers. The smell in the room was a reflection of that, coupled with the odour of stale beer. He would be forced to send his clothes to the dry cleaners tomorrow, no doubt.

A friend of John from university was due to marry that week. Apparently this was his way of celebrating his last night as a bachelor. Sherlock wasn't sure why John insisted on his company tonight if he was just going to disappear not twenty minutes after they arrived. He said it would be weird for him to show up alone. Sherlock was under the impression that stag parties often took place without the men's significant others in the picture, but perhaps that rule was different when one's significant other was also male? Sherlock only agreed to come anyway because he thought this way he'd be able to skip on the actual wedding. Weddings were hopelessly tedious.

Sherlock sighed and climbed up the stairs to the top floor of the nightclub, making his way to the balcony that overlooked most of the establishment. He found himself a relatively secluded spot, and leaned forward against the balcony railing. Let John do the legwork, he'd find him eventually. At least Sherlock won't have to mingle until then.

He scanned the crowd. The place was full to the brim with men in various stages of intoxication, and at least a few who were pretending to be more inebriated than they really were. A couple on the dance floor were doing their best to copulate with their clothes still on. Bodies wriggled against one another in a frantic dance, out of sync with the loud music thumping in his ears.

A hand slide down his back and he turned around, expecting to see John and frowning when he was met with a stranger. The man was tall, handsome and exuded an aura of confidence. He was also quite obviously drunk; swaying slightly on his feet. He reached to grab the railing with one hand, leaning casually and far too close for Sherlock's liking. Sherlock stood his ground, glared at the man who did not seem to take the hint.

"What's a gorgeous guy like you doing here on his own?" The man shouted over the music, his breath rank with the smell of alcohol.

"Shove off," Sherlock said loudly. A quick glance told him that the man was high on more than just alcohol.

The man backed off the slightest bit, hands held up in a gesture of surrender, "And he bites! Sorry, didn't mean to push your buttons," He shouted, grinning widely, "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Try reincarnation," Sherlock suggested dryly, quite bored already. He turned away from the man, and made his way downstairs.

"How about I buy you a drink instead?" The man followed close behind Sherlock, shouting in his ear to make himself heard.

"Are you deaf? I'm not interested." Sherlock gave the man a quick glance. "I'm sure your boyfriend will object, anyway. He's been calling your phone all night."

He used the man's confusion to slip away into the crowd, effectively shaking him off. Making his way across the room, he checked his mobile again, but John still hadn't responded to his text, probably hadn't felt the phone going off with all the noise around them. Noise that was grating on Sherlock's nerves. He stood on his tip toes, scanning the sea of people. Catching a glimpse of familiar dirty blond hair, his lips twitched and he pushed through the crowd in pursuit of his lead.

He startled when he was pulled against a broad chest, arms pinned to his sides. "So how about that drink?" the man from before said, nuzzling Sherlock's ear. The man rubbed his clothed erection against Sherlock's backside.

Sherlock gritted his teeth, and prepared to teach the arsehole how to keep his hands to himself when the weight disappeared suddenly from behind him. He turned around to see the man clutching his wrist, doubling over in pain. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to him.

"This guy bothering you, Sherlock?" John asked, appearing beside him.

"Not anymore," he said, one eyebrow rising.

"I've been looking _everywhere_ for you," John said, and Sherlock chuckled at the absurdity of it. John pulled Sherlock firmly against him, swaying them slightly to the music. "You all right?" he asked.

Sherlock smiled. "Absolutely."


	2. Mycroft x Irene, Spanking, Mature

_**Irene makes Mycroft spank her**_

__**Rated:** R  
**Pairing:** Mycroft/Irene_._  
**Summary: **Exactly what it says on the tin.

"I hope you realise that this is highly unusual, Ms. Adler," Mycroft Holmes says. He's looking at her with indifference, although the effect is slightly ruined by the rising flush in his cheeks. He circles her until she can see nothing but his long shadow.

Irene smiles against the back of her hands. She is wearing her battle dress, but her posture speaks of surrender. She is her knees and forearms, hands clasped before her as in a prayer.

"Consider this a parting gift, Mr. Holmes," she says, and rests her chin on her knuckles. "I always suspected you'd make a fine student. I'm only sorry I won't be around long enough to teach you."

The whip flies at her backside in a wide arc. She doesn't flinch when it lands, but lets out a soft sigh in appreciation.

"Surely you can do better than that?" She purrs. "I've been _very_ naughty."

"Yes, and you will be punished for that," Mycroft says. He's studying her, she knows. More calculating than leering, and she shivers for the first time since she stepped out of her dress.

"But I do wonder why, of all people, you chose _me_ for this task, Ms. Adler."

Irene smiles again. She curves her spine, and the sound of his hitched breath makes her skin tingle.

"There are very few people I'd allow to bring me to my knees, Mr. Holmes." She resists the urge to lick her lips, and adds, "A woman must have standards."

He considers this for just a moment. She can practically hear the gears in his mind turning.

"Begin counting, if you please," he says at last.


	3. John, Sherlock, Farts

Someone at the Sherlock rantmeme asked why people don't fart in fics. Naturally, I assumed it was a challenge.

**A Study in Farts**

Rated: G

Characters: Sherlock, John and one disgruntled cab driver.

* * *

John fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Usually the cab ride from Bart's to the flat was over before he knew it, but right now it seemed to be taking forever; traffic crawling along at a frustrating slow pace. John grimaced and tried to distract himself by concentrating on the view outside the open window.

Of course, Sherlock was suspecting something. "Are you all right?" Sherlock asked, with something that resembled concern passing over his face.

_Beans_, John thought. _It was always the beans_. To Sherlock he simply shook his head and muttered "fine."

He turned back to the window, feeling his face reddening with the effort of keeping it in. The turbulence in his stomach was unbearable. He felt like he was going to burst at any moment.

_I'm not going to make it, _John thought in desperation, letting out a puff of air through his clenched teeth. _Oh God, I'm too young to die._

What the hell, he was going for it.

John made sure to keep his gazed fixed on the open window, as he discreetly lifted one of his bum cheeks off the seat. He began to let out a puff of air through, well, not through his teeth. His arse clenched and unclenched in an effort to regulate the volume. It was probably the hardest he had ever worked for a fart in his life. There was a trickle of sweat rolling down his neck with the effort.

He resisted the urge to sigh in relief as the hot air finally evacuated. The cabbie wasn't sparing them a courtesy glance, and a cool breeze was coming through the open windows. He couldn't smell anything. All seemed well.

John risked a furtive glance at Sherlock, and his heart dropped. Sherlock was staring at him with a curious expression, audibly sniffing the air. John turned his face away once more, feeling himself reddening with embarrassment.

Then he heard it. John whipped his head around to stare at Sherlock. There was no mistaking what it was; it was the loudest, most boisterous fart John had ever heard in his lifetime. He'd heard it. The cabbie had heard it. Hell, there were people outside who had heard it. John could see them craning their necks around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

Sherlock was not looking at John anymore. He was staring straight ahead, a small smirk playing over his lips. He made no move to acknowledge the racket he was making, nor was he trying to deny it.

Silence finally resumed. The heat inside the cab must have gone up a degree or two. John wouldn't have lit up a match if someone had paid him to do so. The cabbie shook his head, muttering obscenities to himself.

Sherlock's only reply was another short gust of air. _Pop_.

John couldn't stop laughing long after they'd already reached the flat.


End file.
